


I'll Be By Your Side

by youaresunlight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s10e18 Book of the Damned, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mention of Episode: s07e23 Survival of the Fittest, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3802753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaresunlight/pseuds/youaresunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Dean starts, effectively knocking Cas out of his quiet admiration, “you got your grace back. Do you feel like a million bucks yet?”</p><p>Cas’ lips quirk at the somewhat absurd, entirely human comparison. “I’m- I certainly feel stronger, although-” He hesitates, unsure of how much he’s allowed to disclose. Because while it’s true that the grace has renewed him, <em>restored</em> him, the ache is still there, not in his muscles or bones but inside his chest. It confused him for years, this perpetual, <em>growing</em> emotion. It defies the parameters of his celestial existence, strengthening around Dean and paining him when they’re apart. It took Cas a long time to identify it as longing, and an even longer while for him to define and accept the feeling as love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be By Your Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [regardinglove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/regardinglove/gifts).



> Written for Rae, who donated to my Dreams2Acts: Nicaragua campaign! Hope you enjoy this, sweetie. :)

When Cas finds Dean again toward the tail end of the night, the hunter is in the kitchen, nursing a beer, clearly lost in thought. Cas doesn’t announce his presence, choosing instead to linger by the door, and his cheeks flush hot when Dean notices him standing there, acknowledging the angel with a small, crooked smile.

“Some things never change, huh?”

Cas drops his eyes, then lifts them back up. He’s fully aware that he stares - quite a bit, where Dean is concerned. “Yes, I’m…” he clears his throat, suddenly self-conscious. “You don’t… startle anymore.”

Dean laughs, raising the bottle to his lips. They’re wet and pink where they wrap around tinted glass, and the sight is so mesmerizing that Cas’ pulse trips. “Six years is enough time to get used to something,” Dean says, and the comment floods Cas with memories, of an abandoned barn, of golden sparks, of gunshots and a blade and the pair of enchanting green eyes behind it. They’re a bit softer now, his eyes, haunted and weary yet all the more wise. Castiel, concise in his unfailing adoration, considers them beautiful, their gaze overwhelming.

“So,” Dean starts, effectively knocking Cas out of his quiet admiration, “you got your grace back. Do you feel like a million bucks yet?”

Cas’ lips quirk at the somewhat absurd, entirely human comparison. “I’m- I certainly feel stronger, although-” He hesitates, unsure of how much he’s allowed to disclose. Because while it’s true that the grace has renewed him, _restored_ him, the ache is still there, not in his muscles or bones but inside his chest. It confused him for years, this perpetual, _growing_ emotion. It defies the parameters of his celestial existence, strengthening around Dean and paining him when they’re apart. It took Cas a long time to identify it as longing, and an even longer while for him to define and accept the feeling as love.

“Hey,” Dean calls, a frown between his brows. He straightens himself away from the counter he was leaning against before setting his beer aside, letting it drip and condense onto stainless steel. “You okay?”

Cas nearly replies with ‘Yes, I’m fine’ - a Winchester reflex - but he quickly decides against it because if there’s anyone who can see through that façade, it’s Dean. “I’m not sure,” he answers instead. “It’s been…” A certain expression crosses his mind. “It’s been a long day.”

Dean laughs again, and Cas wishes he could bottle up the sound and keep it forever. “You’re tellin’ me. It’s a good thing you met Charlie though. She’s asked me about you before, a lot.”

“She’s lovely,” Castiel nods with a smile. Charlie is bright, her heart filled with soft, genuine warmth, and already she’s teaching him things he’d never known, such as the surprising entertainment value held within the flaps of folded paper. “I can see why the two of you have developed such a strong friendship.”

“The sister I never wanted,” Dean chuckles, as he reaches for his bottle again and scrapes a nail over the label. “So, uh, has Sam showed you to your… to a room? There’s one across from mine that, um, should be clean. Though I guess you won’t really need to sleep anymore.”

Cas feels a fluttering in his chest, but tamps down on it. “He did, after dinner. I no longer require rest but… I still appreciate it, Dean. Thank you.”

“Sure.” Dean’s eyes are focused on the floor. “Well, I better turn in. We can’t all be angels, right?” The bottle in his hand, now presumably empty, hits the bottom of the trash bin with a thud. He then turns, honing in on Castiel again, studying him for a moment before placing his palm, solid and steady, on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back. I know I said so already but- You’ve waited long enough and we all needed to hear some good news for a change.” The slight curve in the corner of his mouth leaves Cas breathless, and the only thing he can manage to do is swallow around the lump in his throat and meet Dean’s eyes.

“Thank you, Dean,” he tells him once more. His heart is thumping like mad when Dean bids him good night.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

The days that follow are slow and fast all at once, and with grace lining his veins everything feels heightened, like he’s hyperaware. Food goes back to tasting like molecules although he smiles when Charlie makes him tea, and he tries to hide his concerns surrounding Sam, who’s begun to disappear between meals without a word. 

Dean, for his part, sticks to beers and black-and-white comedies to pass the time, and it isn’t until later in the week that they really talk, after Sam has left the bunker again and Charlie has set up camp in the rec room. Cas is sitting next to Dean on his bed, watching Dean fiddle with his still-broken phone.

The silence is becoming heavy when Dean finally breaks it.

“I really got my hopes up, you know.” Dean isn’t looking at him yet but Cas is fine with that. He waits. “The Book sounded… It all sounded too good to be true but I had to… I needed-” The words stop short with an audible click. The rational part of him knows that he isn’t built to register pain, yet when Cas closes his eyes, it’s around a sharp, knifelike pang beside his heart.

“I told Sam that I want a vacation once I’m Mark-free,” Dean says. “We’ve never been to a beach and… I mean, there’s gotta be a reason people flock to those places, I guess.” He laughs, but it’s sad and hollow. “And now, I can’t stop thinking about it. What it’d be like to just be… free, from everything.”

Cas’ eyes blink open while Dean’s are distant, appearing wistful.

“You’ll get your vacation, Dean. It’s well-deserved, and long overdue.”

There’s a huff of laughter as Dean ducks his head. “Yeah, don’t I know it,” he replies with a sigh. His hands are empty, the phone tossed aside on the mattress, and Cas wonders if Dean would let him hold one, or the other, or both. “You gonna join us then, Cas? Pull on some swim trunks and jump in the water?”

Cas smiles at the thought - of Dean, absolutely radiant beneath the sun. “If you wish,” he answers truthfully, and thinks he must be imagining the blush pervading Dean’s face.

“That’s not how it works,” Dean mumbles, gaze flickering back and forth between Cas and his own knees. “It’s a break. You’re supposed to do whatever _you_ want, not what I want.”

But Cas is shaking his head. “After all that you’ll have been through, Dean, I would even sunbathe if it…” _If it made you happy_ goes unsaid.

Dean rolls his eyes but it contains no bite, and his cheeks are still pink as he mutters, “Who are you? Westley?” which Cas doesn’t get. “Never mind,” Dean adds, having caught the confusion in Cas’ expression. He stands up, claiming that it’s time for dinner and that he’s hungry, before beckoning Cas to follow and coming to a stop once they’re both by the door, face-to-face. “You’re pretty cheesy, you know that?”

“I…” Cas sort of gapes, unsure of how else to respond. Dean’s eyes are twinkling with amusement, crinkled at their corners, and Cas eventually blurts out an awkward “I apologize” that draws a laugh.

“Nah, I don’t mind.” Dean leans against the door, all strong lines. “Feels kinda nice knowing that I’ve got a free pass, like those coupons.”

Cas tilts his head, wrinkling his brow. “What coupons?”

“You know. Like ‘breakfast in bed’ or ‘good for five hugs’ or ‘redeem at the beach to have Cas swim and drink nothing but girly cocktails with tiny umbrellas.’”

“Oh,” Cas says, though he’s still somewhat lost. “But why would you need the coupons if I’m… willing to do everything you just listed without them?”

“Well, those were just examples,” Dean shrugs. “You might need more convincing for what I have in mind.”

“I assure you that I won’t,” Cas protests quietly. He couldn’t deny his hunter anything and it goes beyond his comprehension that Dean would believe otherwise. “Dean, you need only ask. Please remember that.”

Cas nearly misses it, but Dean’s breath stutters at his reply. He’s met with deep, endless green until Dean turns away, hand twisting at the doorknob. “I’ll, um, keep that in mind,” he says.

Cas nods and follows him out into the hallway.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Without the need for sleep, the nights become longer, quieter - _lonely_. Not that his evenings were brimming with company before, but lying awake and alone on a very large bed strikes him as lonelier than driving with the radio to occupy his thoughts.

Tonight is no exception: he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He’s been sending out waves of comfort to the other three sleeping in their rooms, so it’s a surprise when he catches the crash across the hall, practically leaping out of bed to get to the scene, his mind shouting _Dean_.

Dean’s bed is empty, save for the badly rumpled sheets, but the door to his bathroom’s open and Cas glimpses a cup, shattered on the floor. He steps around the shards that litter his path, reaching out to Dean who’s bent over the sink. His face is pale, each breath ragged and heaving, and he barely notices Cas’ hand where it curls around his bicep.

“Dean,” Cas calls as gently as he can. “What happened? Did you-”

“Cas,” Dean gasps. His eyes are dazed when they meet Cas’ in the mirror. “ _Cas_ …”

“I’m here, Dean. Please come back. I’m here.” Cas is pleading, hand gripping hard enough to bruise. He hates that he’s so utterly helpless, unable to free Dean from this curse, this _prison_. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around Dean’s trembling shoulders. He allows Dean’s weight to rest against his chest and it’s a relief to hear his breaths finally even out.

“Cas,” Dean sighs, hot in the crook of his neck. He’s sounding far more lucid now and Cas holds him tighter, their bodies pressed close. “I thought- It felt so _real_ , Cas, I thought-”

“It’s alright,” Cas soothes, running a hand through Dean’s hair. The tufts are damp with sweat but he couldn’t care less, not when Dean leans into the touch.

“Cain said,” Dean chokes out. “Before I offed him, he, he said… that I’ll… _Shit_ , Cas, what if I hurt you? You wouldn’t even- You’ve gotta promise to fight back. Don’t you _dare_ let me hurt you, _don’t_ -” Dean starts shaking again as wetness spreads across Cas’ skin.

“You won’t,” Cas assures him. “You’re not Cain, Dean, you’re _stronger_. You can fight this.”

“I don’t know,” Dean argues, and he sounds so tired, so weak; Cas aches for him.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” he suggests, guiding Dean carefully so he won’t step in the glass. He catches Dean’s muffled ‘Stay?’ against his shoulder, and after helping Dean to lie down, replies, “Of course, as long as you need.”

True to his word, he soon joins Dean on the bed, watching Dean’s eyes as they blink and refocus in their search for him.

“You’re okay,” Dean breathes at last, the tension visibly seeping out of his body. It prompts Cas to smile, to reach for Dean’s hand, to entwine their fingers without a second thought or any hesitation.

“Yes,” he confirms, lifting their clasped hands to lay a single kiss on Dean’s knuckles. It’s more intimate than any other moment they’ve shared before but Dean doesn’t stop him, or push him away.

“Cas,” he says instead, quirking a smile when Cas glances up, eyes wide. “You remember those, uh, coupons I talked about?” he asks, and when Castiel nods, he continues, “Thought maybe I could cash mine in now.”

He’s biting his lip, Cas notes, a gesture that’s uncharacteristically shy for Dean Winchester. He must be nervous, Cas concludes with no small degree of wonder, so he tightens his hold on Dean’s hand and is quick to reassure him, “Anything, Dean.”

Dean props himself up on his elbow, and Cas, having no clue what he might want, shifts until he’s flat on his back, their eyes locked. He holds his breath, not that it causes him discomfort, and stares in silence at Dean, who is really, infuriatingly gorgeous.

A hand comes between them, curling into Cas’ shirt, and the angel forgets to breathe entirely, so attuned to the green, the freckles, the pink lips. And when Dean leans closer, closer than they’ve ever been, Cas tries not to shut his eyes, half in disbelief that Dean might- That he might kiss him.

“Dean?” Castiel hedges, keeps his voice quiet in case this were a dream, a wonderful one. But angels don’t dream, he reminds himself - they do not sleep, after all, so dreaming is impossible - and he knows that this is more than mere wishful thinking when Dean presses their lips together, carefully slow and sweet.

For all of their fighting, they’re both incredibly gentle when it comes to this. Both of Dean’s hands, rough and calloused from years of wielding weapons, frame Castiel’s face in a manner that’s protective and painfully tender. Cas’ hands, in the meantime, tug Dean closer by his waist until he’s draped over Cas. Castiel is strong enough that the weight is not remotely uncomfortable, and he’s all too absorbed by the warmth of Dean’s mouth, the way it moves against his own and pulls gasp after gasp from his throat.

“Wanted to kiss you for a while,” Dean says, during the seconds they separate, hands still clutching at each other. “This okay, Cas? Hope I haven’t caught you off guard too much…”

In lieu of an answer, Castiel moves, till their positions are switched and Dean is pinned underneath him.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” Dean laughs, a breathless, beautiful thing. It breaks into a whimper when Castiel kisses him possessively, arms bracketing his head and their bodies lined up seamlessly.

“Dean… Dean, you have no idea,” Cas breathes. “You’re- I’ve always… I…” he sighs as he trails off, frustrated at his loss for words. But Dean is looking at him kindly, uncaring of his lack of eloquence.

“I can feel your grace,” Dean says softly, sounding awed as his fingertips trace the plane of Cas’ chest. “Right here,” he presses at a spot by Cas’ heart. “Right here. You’re really back, huh?”

“Dean.” Cas’ teeth grit together as he drops his head to rest on Dean’s shoulder. “I am, but my… my wings. They’re broken.” The word is harder to voice than he thought. “They’re a far cry from what you saw years ago, when we first met.”

“So?” Dean asks, breath ruffling Cas’ hair. “At least now you can heal yourself.” His hand rubs the spot between his shoulder blades; Cas sighs again. “Plus, you drive that ridiculous pimp car everywhere. It’ll give your wings chance to get stronger. Quit-”

“But I can’t _help you_ ,” his tone is as desperate as he feels. “What good is my grace if I can’t help the one person who is most important to me?” He tucks his face against Dean’s neck, breaths heavy and wet with choked emotion. “What good am I if I can’t save you?”

Dean stills but doesn’t pull away from their embrace, and for a moment they lie in silence without even the noise of a ticking clock to fill the void.

“Cas,” Dean says slowly, cautiously. Cas braces himself for an agreement that never comes. “You’ve already saved me, and _more than once_ , might I remind you. Sure, I can’t fight the Mark alone, but neither can you. That’s sorta why we’re all here and damn it if I don’t think myself lucky that I have you. I may be cursed, Cas, but it could also be worse. I could be alone or I could’ve hurt you, or Sammy or Charlie. So, I don’t want to hear any more about you feelin’ guilty, alright?”

Dean’s hand is still on his back, and Cas is sure that he can detect the rapid thump, thump, thumps of his heart, its quickening pace. The organ seems to function solely in reaction to Dean, rather than follow the rules of his grace or act in accordance to being part of an angel’s body.

Cas raises his head from where it was buried in Dean’s neck, then shifts himself forward to press a soft, chaste kiss to Dean’s cheek.

“Okay,” he murmurs, finding Dean’s hand and grasping it tight. “But just so you know,” he adds, pulse racing fast. “I’d rather have you, Dean. Cursed or not.”

“You don’t remember saving my ass but you remember that.” Dean huffs and his stubble grazes Cas’, raspy and rough. “Man, you are cheesy.”

Cas doesn’t deny it. In fact, he pushes a little further. “On that note, am I… also allowed a ‘coupon’?”

Dean sighs, but brushes his thumb over Cas’ wrist. “Sure, why not. Let’s make it a party.”

Castiel nods and keeps talking before Dean can change his mind. “I would like to redeem mine now as well, to tell you something.”

Dean licks his lips, his gaze glass-green, looking endearingly nervous as he replies, “Okay, fine. Shoot.”

Cas smiles, tipping his head for another kiss.

“I love you.”

Dean’s eyes are wide when he pulls back, mouth parted in a gasp from the kiss, and the confession. “You…”

“I have loved you for a long time,” Cas says, “and in the past few years I’ve come to realize that I… won’t feel this way about anyone else. I’m not asking you to reciprocate, only that you don’t give up, or stop fighting the Mark. I cannot lose you. I could never… never bear that. But I will be here, by your side, Dean. Whatever it takes. I will _never_ give up on you.”

The words, once they’re out in the open, offer relief like a weight has finally disappeared. Dean watches him, their hearts now beating in tandem, but what Cas doesn’t expect is for Dean to pull him down and crush his lips hard against Cas’.

“I am reciprocating,” Dean murmurs. “ _God_ , I… You’re such a dumbass. Of course I will.”

“Promise me, Dean,” Cas lets the request fall into their kiss. “Please promise me that you won’t give up.”

Dean slides his hands over Cas’ arms and then his shoulders. They come to rest on either side of Cas’ face, warm and sure. “I’ll do my best,” he says, an echo of Cas’ pledge from the past.

“That’s all I ask,” Cas replies, and smiles softly against Dean’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> [Rebloggable link here](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com/post/117120486945/dean-cas-ill-be-by-your-side) | [Learn how to get a fic of your own](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com/post/115338397325/hello-friends-thanks-to-the-encouragement-from)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please do leave me kudos, comments, and love! :)


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